Woman’s political power was hurled solidly against an increase of
armaments, and Vassar’s Bill for National Defense was defeated.
Waldron’s triumph was complete. His lawyers drew the compromise measure
which Congress was permitted to pass a few weeks later. It made
provision for a modest increase of the Army, Navy and the National
Guard.
The banker’s newspapers led the chorus of approval of this absurd
program and the nation was congratulated on its happy deliverance from
the threatened curse of militarism.
Waldron chartered two trains and took the entire delegation of five
hundred women members of the Convention as his guests. He entertained
them for a week at the best hotels and closed the celebration with a
banquet at his palatial home in honor of Virginia Holland.
At the close of the dinner when the last speaker had finished a
brilliant panegyric of praise for the modern Joan of Arc, the master of
the feast whispered in her ear:
“Will you remain a few minutes when the others have gone? I’ve something
to tell you.”
She nodded her consent and Waldron hurried their departure.
She wondered vaguely what new scheme his fertile brain had hatched, and
followed him into the dimly lighted conservatory without a suspicion of
the sensation he was about to spring. In his manner there was not the
slightest trace of excitement. He found a seat overlooking an entrancing
view of the cold, moonlit river below, and began the conversation in the
most matter of fact way.
“I have a big announcement to make to you, Miss Holland,” he began
evenly.
“Indeed?”
“My life work is rapidly reaching its consummation. You like this
place?”
He adjusted his glasses and waved his hand comprehensively. The gesture
took in the house, the grounds, the yacht, the river and possibly the
city.
Virginia started to the apparently irrelevant question. In her surprise
she forgot to answer.
“You like it?” he repeated.
“Your place,” she stammered, “why, yes, of course, it’s beautiful, and
I think the banquet a triumph of generosity. Our leaders will never
cease sounding your praises. I must say that you’re a master politician.
I wonder that you became a banker--”
Waldron’s cold smile thawed into something like geniality.
“I had good reasons for that choice, you may rest assured. The man who
does things, Miss Holland, leaves nothing to chance which his will may
determine. It was not by accident that I became a multi-millionaire. It
was necessary--”
He stopped abruptly and fixed her with his steel-gray eyes.
“The triumph of my life work is in sight. I may breathe freely for the
first time. I have chosen you to be the queen of this house. I offer you
my hand in marriage--”
Virginia caught her breath in genuine amazement. Never before had he
even hinted that the thought of marriage had entered his imagination. He
had made his proposal with a cocksure insolence which assumed that the
honor was so high the girl had not been born who could refuse it.
A little angry laugh all but escaped before she repressed it. The
situation was dramatic. She would play with him a moment--and test his
sense of humor.
“You honor me beyond my deserts, Mr. Waldron,” she answered naively.
“I must differ with you,” he answered briskly. “On the other hand I am
sure there is not a woman in America who could grace these halls with
your poise, your brilliance, your beauty. The home I have built is
worthy of you--yes. That you will fill the high position to which I have
called you with dignity and grace I am sure--”
She lifted her hand with a movement of impatience--a mischievous smile
playing about her mouth.
“But you haven’t told me that you love me--“ she protested.
“You are a modern woman. You have outgrown the forms of the past--is it
necessary to repeat the formula? Can’t you take that much for granted in
the offer of my hand?”
Virginia shook her head.
“I’ve traveled pretty far from the old ways, I know,” she admitted. “I
can’t give up all the past. I’ve an idea that a man and woman should
love before marriage--”
“If the centuries have taught Europe anything,” he argued, “it is that
reason, not passion, should determine marriage. I hold to the wisdom of
the ages on the point. I ask you to be my wife. Don’t joke. You cannot
refuse me.”
Virginia rose with decision.
“But I do refuse you.”
The banker was too surprised to speak for a moment. It was incredible.
That a girl with a paltry dowry of a hundred thousand should refuse his
offer of millions, his palace in New York, his estates in Europe--a
feeling of blind rage choked him.
“You cannot mean it?” his cold voice clicked.
“Such high honor is not for me,” she firmly replied. “I do not intend to
marry--”
He studied her with keen eyes, rubbed his glasses and readjusted them
again.
“You will accept the position I offer without marriage?” he asked
eagerly.
Her face went white and her body stiffened.
“If you will call the car please--I will go--”
Waldron’s heels came together with a sharp military click, his big neck
bent in the slightest bow, and he led the way into the hall without a
word.
He made no pretense at politeness or apology. He left her to his
servants and mounted the grand stairway in a tumult of blind rage.